


Safety Blanket

by Lucidlucy



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Force Bond, I'm sorry I don't know how to not do sad, Kylo's helmet, One Shot, POV Kylo Ren, They fight all over the place really, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucidlucy/pseuds/Lucidlucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She beats at his walls, over and over, demanding he throw away his helmet. And then <i>he does...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Safety Blanket

**Author's Note:**

  * For [persimonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/gifts).



> A fill of Persimonne's [Tumblr Reylo Prompt](https://thelucidlucy.tumblr.com/post/149339991295/reylo-prompt-helmet)! Look at this baby ficlet thing. It barely makes it to drabble, but enjoy!

“Take off that helmet,” she demands, much like Han Solo had once, though she could scarcely know that, “You don’t need it! Take it off and _face me_!” 

He doesn’t remove it. Instead he lunges at her, helmet sitting where it belongs so it can hide his scar, his shame and his weakness. The battle would last until their clothes are singed and their arm-wraps shredded, and both Kylo Ren and Rey of Jakku escape by the skin of their teeth. Another battle nearly won. Another battle nearly lost.

The next time they fight she demands the same from him, and it’s only been so long since the infection left and the skin started to heal. The raging, frigid winds battering at him as he hoists his saber into his opening stance would _hurt_ , so he keeps the helmet on. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 

This time he bests her, but only just, and his saber is posed at her throat while his own constricts when he tries to swallow, a pain that has nothing to do with exertion slowly blooming in his chest. He drops his hand and stalks off, leaving her to deal with her own wounds this time.

So many battles. So many almost won, so many almost lost. She would repay the favor the next time, leaving him hanging at Death’s doorstep by a thread before miraculously regaining her senses, her sense of righteousness. He’d let her live once, so she lets him live now. 

“Throw it away, Ren,” she says, and when she tries to lean down to remove it he lashes out. Rey’s fury returns, but instead of killing him she simply spits at his feet and stalks off. That seems to hurt more than dying would.

Months and months go by, and her demands for him to throw away his helmet only increase. Always urgent, so urgent. Their Force Bond screams at him, the words she refuses to say projected into his brain as images. She’s seen him, his face. Her daydreams have been filled with his soulful eyes –– Funny, that she’d think of them that way –– of a wide pout and a long nose he’s always hated. Kylo grunts every time, refusing to engage. He’d made a fool of himself once by baring himself to her, he would not do it again. 

His refusal angers her, and it only brings him pleasure. Her anger makes her forget about her silly desire to see him again, and Kylo Ren can deal with her that much easier. Anger he knows. Daydreams are not –– would _not_  –– be added to his list of weaknesses and trespasses.

Still, if Rey of Jakku had a claim to fame, it would be her pigheaded persistence. She starts chipping at his walls over months, demanding every time that he pry his walls open and allow her in once more. She begs him to throw away his mask, to  denounce the Dark and return to his mother even as she keeps fighting him, nearly killing him, then running off. She begs him to run away with her, to denounce his master, to let her _see_.

On one particular fight, finally exhausted and on his knees, he disengages his saber and brings his hands up. The hydraulic hiss has always been so familiar, so comforting, now it whines like the whistle that’ll announce the beginning of his end. Rey stands over him, Saber held up much like she had on Starkiller base, waiting, always _waiting_. He pries his helmet from his head and tosses it at her feet.

“There. Are you happy now?” He growls, burning in his own humiliation.

This would be one battle she’d win, in more ways than one. He stares at her tiny boots, refusing to allow his gaze to travel up, up, where he’s sure he’ll find nothing but disgust. Time stretches on the mossy field, languid and cold despite the warmth of the setting sun. it glints off his visor, alive, making a mockery of Kylo’s turmoil. He looks at it, at her feet. How fitting. 

What happens next is wrapped in gauze in his mind, hazy despite his attempts at sharpening the image later on, and he will never admit it’s the dampness of his lashes that distorts his vision rather than the way memories work. 

Her hands drop down and she lifts up his helmet carefully, her steps deliberately slow and steady as she approaches. She stands in front of him, her quick breaths sharp, and Kylo still refuses to look at anything but her boots. The bond is quiet, if only for a short time, until he feels it. Guilt. Not his guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs as she sinks to her knees, her own saber forgotten a few feet away. Kylo finally looks up and she pushes the helmet into his lap, trying hurriedly to fix what she thinks she’s broken. How futile. How touching.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

Kylo looks at his helmet, takes it quietly, dons it. His safety blanket is back. He clutches his saber and stands, and Rey quickly calls hers–– _his_ , for it would _always_ be his–– turning it in her slender hands and igniting it again. The drawl of his modulator feels inhuman to his ears, just as it should be, even if his words are not. 

“So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you liked this super tiny thing. I decided to post it here so those of you who don't follow me ([what are you waiting for?](http://thelucidlucy.tumblr.com)) can enjoy it. Also because I can never quite trust tumblr (I'm sure someday it'll go the way of livejournal).


End file.
